University of San Francisco's Student-Run Literary Magazine
by Angela Townsend If my world shrinks to all that my arms can carry, Monsieur Dupont shall be saved. Along with my mother’s quilts and my hard drive, I will salvage the wiry Gund hedgehog from 1986. He is six inches of plush and polyfill. He is an important Frenchman. He is language and longing… Continue reading Monsieur Dupont
by V.A Wiswell 2022 My earliest memory is of violence. It follows me like a shadow. A lost dog. A nightmare. My sister Katelyn is singing “Landslide” from top to bottom, over and over, as we walk alongside the empty two-lane road after a full day of swimming at the lake. We’re almost home when… Continue reading Landslide
by Sarah Carolan TW: Drowning The peninsula claimed over two hundred ships in as many years. Victims would run afoul on hidden shoals or be driven off course by unpredictable gales. Others overestimated their maneuverability within the narrow, limestone-filled straits. But only one shipwreck, Griffin Lyons, captured Kat’s attention, and she blamed his demise on… Continue reading Lion of the Lake
by JC Alfier From the river that received his ashes like alms,my father stands at his workbench, tinkers in the service of the lesser angels now,heaven acceding his need for a 40-watt bulb cornered away from the radiant surge of Shekinah glory.Departed souls about him will get used to the dimness, study him putzing about… Continue reading Tradesman
by Daniel Tarker “These reunions are always. . .” I tried to find the right word, but it was elusive. Miserable. Depressing. Death-defying. I finally settled on “unbearable.” I raised my plastic cup of microbrew and added, “the only thing that makes these events bearable is the booze.” Jennifer smiled politely and looked over at… Continue reading Love in a Capitalist Hellscape
by Mallory Rader For Sabrina I drop your daughter onto her bed with a plunk. You are a daughter. I am a daughter. We joke about being each other’s mother. She wants to be a baby again. I touch something mythological in the air. Your toddler clenches her eyes shut, puts a thumb in her… Continue reading For Sabrina, For Riley
by Josephine Clapp You said our world has become a cyclonethe people around usare at the center.Trying to lureus in. You’re wrong. You are the cyclone.Looking into your eyes—somehow feels like reaching outtowards the eye of the stormthat is you and I. Reeking of Sound by Jack Dunnett Josephine Clapp is a freshman at Key… Continue reading Cyclone
Ignatian Literary Magazine 